Shiny Happy People
by I am the Poptart
Summary: Ivory Johnson and her companions are first year students in Hogwarts, and they are quite...odd. Starting in Potter's third year, Ivory is obviously in the middle of things. With her curiosity, though, things will be...further complicated.
1. Such an Odd Group

Okay...hi?

My name is I am the Poptart, and I am the poptart.

SO! I'm assuming you've all heard about "My Immortal", havent'cha? Hmm, wasn't that a stinker? However, I, being the nutjob that I am, thought one day, "If one took 'My Immortal' and spun it on its head, one could get a decent story!" So, I did that, and I just BARELY have this planned out, am making the chapters up as we speak, and on top of that I haven't read all the books yet (only made it partway through the third before I stopped for SOME reason, and that was a long while ago)! I could just be proving myself wrong! So, if I get anything inaccurate as far as canon goes, (turns around) I insist that you kick me. I promise that I'll read the rest as soon as possible *determined fist pump!*. So…I guess that I'll start?

**Chapter 1—A Bit of a Queer Group**

Harry Potter wandered down the aisles of the train, just behind Ronald Weasley, looking for a seat. It was quite an odd train, or not the normal kind to say the very least. This was a magical train, a magical train to a magical place. In that place they had experienced plenty already, even though it was only their third year. One would think that Harry would not ever really worry over anything, being the most famous wizard in the world, but then again, perhaps he should. He was, after all, but a young child.

"Hey, Potter!" a taunting voice cried out. It belonged to a Slytherin—undoubtedly a friend of Malfoy's. The student produced an Every-Flavor bean from a small packet, and threw it at Harry's head. It missed by mere centimeters. Grumbling to himself, Harry continued walking, irritated, though he said nothing to the Slytherin student.

The only other thing he saw that was almost notable was a rather odd group of students. Not for how they looked (which was, admittedly rather odd as well, for they were clustered together as though they had less room than they did and were all quite varied), but rather, for the bit of conversation he'd picked up from them as he walked past. Two of the students were holding some sort of debate, the content of it involving a rat with a battleaxe, a blind old woman with a machine gun, and a third member of the party with a pint of milk. When Harry had heard this, he almost stopped in his tracks to simply hear the rest of the argument. But, Ron was getting a bit ahead of him, so he quickly went on.

Now, forgive me, but we will now lose focus on Harry to observe the odd group of students. And what a queer group they were! A scrawny one of medium height was hunched forth, hands folded in his lap, fighting with the girl across from him. His short, scruffy brown hair and wide, glaring blue eyes—though concealed by his green hood, one could just tell that they were like this—went along perfectly with the pestered tone that he was using. His name was Norris Cunningham.

"I don't care if the gun has unlimited ammo, she'll just keep firing into oblivion! Besides, this rat is smart! He'll dodge the bullets and get the old biddy in the ankles!"

The short, plump girl across from him raised an eyebrow. She slumped back in her seat, her pink blouse tucking in and out of her trousers, twirling a lock of her silky black hair around her finger. Her name was Madeline Lorresby, and her brown eyes gleamed with amusement as she replied,

"Well, you seem to have forgotten that a rat, no matter how smart, can't lift an axe up, or even really operate it. The lady can get the rat, and Roselle can surely take the lady down!"

"How? How can Roselle possibly kill a blind old lady with a CARTON OF MILK?"

"Because it's Roselle! She can get you tonight armed with nothing but a toothpick and a tube of toothpaste!" Madeline replied smugly, as though she had just completely won the debate.

"Oh, why am _I_ involved in this stupid argument? And why do I have a carton of milk instead of my wand?" a third girl intervened. She was the tallest out of everyone in the cluster, and certainly the one who cared most about her appearance. Her white blouse was well-ironed and tucked neatly into her skirt; one couldn't find a single wrinkle on her despite the outfit clinging sadly on to her thin frame. Her red hair was tucked nicely into a bun that sat on top of her head. Her blue eyes, however, were quite bloodshot, probably from her lack of sleep. She was Roselle Fiore Hussley, but sometimes even she called herself Roselle Huffy instead. "I honestly can't stand it when you have these stupid, stupid arguments!"

"Oh, it's not that dumb." Said the fourth. Her sweater vest was slightly covering her white shorts. A pair of square glasses was over her green eyes, slightly crooked on her face. Her blonde hair was quite ruffled, and cut slightly uneven. She was Ivory Johnson, and she wasn't nearly as gracious as her name would imply. "But I do have to ask—what kind of milk?"

"What does THAT matter?" Norris asked in shock.

"It only changes the whole situation!" Ivory replied, indignant. Roselle sighed and shook her head.

"I suppose," She muttered audibly, "That this is what I get for picking all of _you_ to sit with. I swear that the next time we board this train I will sit as far away from you as I possibly can!

"Now then," she said, finally calm, "So I can make my mum think I'm smart, I've gotten a history book all about Hogwarts." Roselle gestured to the massive open book in her lap. "It has some old documents in it, see? Before the school was even established. It says that they're complaints about the wizards in the community poorly using their magic and—oh, drat."

"What?" Madeline asked curiously.

"I wanted to look at these documents, but they're in the Elven language." Roselle said in disappointment. Then she asked, as though she might actually get an answer, "Do any of you speak Elven?"

"Roselle, I'm a doctor, not a linguist!" Norris announced. He turned to Ivory, who appeared confused, and taunted, "I'm sorry, was that too obscure for you?"

Ivory rolled her eyes. She was just about to give him an equally teasing answer when the lights on the train flickered out.

Poptart Footnotes: Well, now, how awful was that? :3


	2. Unfortunate, No?

Hello, nobody! Who wants to know why I'm editing this? Well, my computer's being stupid and firmly refuses to display my story every time I search for its title (and for the likely nobody that sees this that is wondering, "Does she have nothing better to do than search for her own story?" the answer is no.), so I want to see if it can acknowledge my own updating. Oh wells!

**Chapter 2—Well, Now, That's Unfortunate**

"What happened to the lights?" Madeline asked, unjustifiably calm.

"They went out, what do you think?" Roselle hissed, whispering for some reason. "Oh, look—we've stopped!" Yes, they had; but they'd been so enthralled in conversation that they hadn't noticed until now. Right as Roselle had finished pointing out the obvious, a small screeching sound was heard. The door had opened.

"Now I wonder," Ivory thought aloud, "who could possibly be getting on board now?" Norris, though nobody could see it, nodded in agreement. Then he added, "Whoever it is, I don't really care to look." And with that, he turned his gaze to the window, afraid to see whatever creature would ever board this train now. His friends, while not usually those to follow his judgment, stared out as well.

The staring lasted for several silent minutes, until Madeline broke it with a soft "Eep!" If anyone was to ask why she suddenly squeaked, they didn't have to—in seconds, a great, cold air had swept amongst the entire train, felt by all. The silence, the cold, and the fear lasted for what seemed like an eternity. Animals growled and children whispered, and Ivory swore that she heard a grown man muttering something from the back of the train. A few flashes of faint light dabbled here and there, until the door squeaked again, the train lurched forth, and the lights flickered back on.

There seemed to be a simultaneous sigh of relief that stretched along the whole locomotive. But they were soon replaced by whispers—no, a whisper. Just one whisper that passed down the whole train, from person to person. One student leaned forth to Roselle's ear and passed it to her, and she appeared a bit shocked.

"Well?" Ivory asked, seeing as there was nobody left to pass it to (all those in front of them were already aware, as she could tell from the small exclamations of "Really?"). "What's the word?"

Roselle leaned forward, resting her chin in her palm. She seemed quite tired. "A Dementor was on the train. Harry Potter has fallen from his seat, and he hasn't woken up yet." The group was quite silent. This came as a rather good shock to them, as they knew all about Potter and the Dark Lord, just as any good wizard or witch did (as far as they knew). Ivory was the first to speak.

"That's bad, isn't it?" Norris boxed her ear.

Poptart footnotes: Much shorter than the last chapter, eh? Oh, well, hope whatever person that read this enjoyed it!


	3. Not the Corn

Hello again, friends! Before I go on, I'd like to thank the person who goes by the name of "michelle. m. michealson" for giving me a story subscription! Truly, you are lovely!

Now, let us continue!

**Chapter 3: "Popcorn" is the Forbidden Word**

"FIRS' YEARS THIS WAY!" a booming voice cried from the outside. The train had now made it to the school. Norris, Madeline, Roselle and Ivory followed the call, treading behind all the other terrified first years. Norris chuckled very faintly.

"Oh, look at them all!" he whisper-laughed. "They're so afraid of this place, just because of one single Dementor!" to this, Ivory got to box him on the ear. "Ouch."

"You twit!" Roselle hissed in fury.

"I think you wet yourself, didn't you, Norris?" Madeline added teasingly. Norris said nothing, but he looked at his shoes with a guilty expression. Ivory inched away from him as much as she could.

At the moment the group looked up, they all nearly wet themselves. In their line of sight was the man who had called out to the first years—he was the largest, burliest, hairiest, most threatening looking man they'd ever laid eyes on. Norris turned and tried to run back to the train—not that it was any use; it'd already pulled away—but was restrained by Roselle's firm grip on his shirt hood.

The first years moved along behind the great giant in wordless fear, except for, of course, the group in the back. Ivory wasn't even looking ahead of her. Instead, she was focusing on the trees that they passed as they walked on.

"Hmm, I wonder if we'll ever get to go deep into that forest. I'd like to see an Elf." She wondered aloud.

"Only you would ever think of walking into a random wood, Ivory!" Roselle whispered in reply. "And for all you know, that's the Forbidden Forest!"

"I don't there've been any Elves here for over a decade, anyway." Madeline added. "Besides, hasn't curiosity like that gotten you into trouble before?"

"No!" Ivory insisted.

"Rubbish." Norris rolled his eyes. "I think that you've forgotten the Popcorn Incident. Or as I like to call it, 'the Only Way You can get Banned from Germany in Three Hours with nothing but an Oar, a China Doll, and Twelve Barrels of Corn Kernels'."

Ivory was silenced, her eyes filled with terror, regret, and sorrow. A wave of tears that welled in her eyes was quickly wiped away by her cloak sleeve.

"But we promised to never speak of it again…" she whimpered. Madeline wrapped an arm around her friend's shoulder, which was difficult due to the height difference, and shot Norris an acidic look.

They were all quite silent on the rest of the way to the lake. When they finally got there, however, Roselle piped up, "I don't believe I was present for this 'Popcorn Incident'. Please, tell me about it." Norris gave the smirk that he usually wore, and as they went across the great waters, he retold the tale as Ivory looked on in terror, and Roselle in fascinated fear.

"Well…" she announced as they were finally across, and entering the palace, "I can't say I could ever imagine so many illegal ways to operate corn."

Poptart footnotes: Hurray for filler chapters! Hurray for Noodle Incidents! ^.^


	4. Careful, or You

Nothing new to say right now, I'm afraid. Reviews desired, criticism welcome, have it your way.

**Chapter 4: Curse that Hat…**

The moment the doors were opened to reveal that grand hall was a moment full of wonderment. Ivory bumped into person after person, she was told, for she wasn't paying attention; her eyes were locked firmly on the ceiling overhead.

"Beautiful." Madeline decided, nodding at the stars on the black background. "Absolutely beautiful."

"What, the ceiling?" Norris whispered back. "You're just looking at the ceiling? What about those candles? They're just hanging up there! Supported by NOTHING!" He was staring up at, and referring to, the several candles that were hanging, clustered, in midair. A student—a Ravenclaw—sitting at a seat just to the side of him shushed him quickly. Norris snapped to attention, almost appearing fascinated by the warnings the headmaster, Dumbledore, was giving about…a forest, was it? As he tried to pick up what was being said, just a little drop of wax from a candle—that just so happened to be right over his head—dropped on top of his cranium. But, despite being small, it was hot. Not blazing, but hot.

Norris screamed loudly, loudly enough to make professor Dumbledore's speech stop cold, and to make every single head turn in the direction of the collection of first years in the room. At first, everyone suspected it to be a girl. But no, it was none other than Norris Cunningham, who couldn't take a drop of wax on the head without losing his marbles. Once a shriek stopped, there was a deep breath, and more shrieks would follow it. Roselle buried her face in her palm, and when she was asked about it in the future, she insisted upon having absolutely no relation to anybody with the surname "Cunningham".

When Norris' display had finally ceased, four bloody minutes later, Dumbledore remarked, "I'm supposing that there was a more appropriate place for those candles…"  
A single laugh was heard. It was Ivory's.

"Anton Marcelot?" the professor McGonagall began reading the names from the parchment, as though the previous events had never happened. A small, bleach-blonde boy wandered forth from the crowd. The old hat was placed upon his head, and, after a few seconds of the hat muttering to itself, a decision was made.

"GRYFFINDOR!" A cheer rose up from the Gryffindor table, where the boy took his place at. The rest of the list was read, and three of the foursome had already been placed by the time Roselle was called—all in Hufflepuff. When it was placed on their heads, the hat remained mostly silent, almost in a stunned state.

Roselle stepped up nervously, hoping to be in anywhere BUT Hufflepuff, because, honestly, who wanted to have to answer "Hufflepuff" when they were asked what house they were in? _Just put me into the "Happy-Marshmallow-Bag "house why don't you…_ Roselle thought as the hat was placed on her head.

And then, to her and her friends' great shock, "SLYTHERIN!" The Slytherin table applauded and cheered, while Roselle just stood there, dumbfounded. A quick push from McGonagall, and she was on her way over to the Slytherin table, looking over to the Hufflepuffs table in desperation. Her friends cocked their heads to the side in confusion as she walked past. As she took a seat, as the other students were sorted, and as the Slytherins patted her back, she realized that her angry thinking was the wrong thing to do at that time.

"I never would've thought." Madeline thought aloud. "I mean, I knew she was a little too…_huffy_ for Hufflepuff, but she's not like those Slytherins."

"Nasty people. I heard them laughing after they heard that Potter was down." Norris added, fixing the table behind them with an icy glare. They waited for Ivory to reply, but she said nothing. Instead, she had taken a small piece of scratch paper from the pocket of her shorts, a pen from her sweater vest, and was now busy sketching away on the scrap.

"Who are you drawing now?" Madeline asked, leaning over nearer to the friend's shoulder. "Roselle? Why are you drawing her? She never seemed that interesting to you before…"

"She's interesting to me now." Ivory replied. "Oh, and is Potter here yet? I want to draw him, too. He's VERY interesting to me, and his friends…" her voice trailed off as she spotted a rather dark-haired, foreboding professor sitting at the table up front. She quickly began sketching his features down on the paper as well—he looked VERY intriguing to her.

"I'm afraid that Mr. Harry is still gone." A timid voice, with a German accent, broke Ivory's focus. She looked up and found herself staring into the pale face—which was covered with a mess of black hair—of a muscular girl. She gave a wide smile that was reflected in her amber eyes and extended a hand to Ivory. "My name is Ritz Redhenburg. And you are?"

"Ivory Johnson." Ivory replied, taking the hand and shaking it. "Ritz?" and people say my name's weird…"

"I get that plenty. Say, is that the girl that you were staring at?" she pointed at the drawing on the paper.

"Yes. I draw people that I find interesting. I'm surprised I haven't drawn her before, because I've known her so long…"

"SHUT UP!" one voice cried out from the Slytherin table. Ivory and Ritz shrank back down into their seats, blushing a little—they hadn't noticed that they'd been talking so loudly.

At that moment, the doors to the hall swung open, and everybody forgot the two girls yapping, and the moronic boy screaming, and the hat that put you into your place and the professors and the entire school for a moment. Harry Potter had just come in the room, as late as possible, and looking unhurt by the Dementor incident.

Poptart footnotes: Sorry about the extra filler of Norris being an idiot and screaming, but I thought that would well establish him as a ham. I hope you enjoyed it, and if you have any comments or criticism, leave a review, please!


End file.
